


a short bridge between wanting and regret

by fbawtft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And they have phones, For the most part, M/M, Slow Build, also its in first person, also its in the format where one chapter is person A and the chp after that is in person B, and no ones married, but the only established relationship is romione, for now, its fluent tho, its post war, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 03:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12999225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fbawtft/pseuds/fbawtft
Summary: “You have to promise me.”“Promise you what?”“That you won't fall in love with me.”The downfall of my life is the exact moment when I said those words. I knew he would. He always would. In every lifetime and every moment, second, minute, hour.. He’d fall in love with me over and over. He was helpless.orthe one where draco and harry are helplessly in love with each other and draco's friends make the first step in furthering their relationship





	1. Draco

**_Draco_ **

“You have to promise me.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won't fall in love with me.”

The downfall of my life is the exact moment when I said those words. I knew he would. He always would. In every lifetime and every moment, second, minute, hour.. He’d fall in love with me over and over. He was helpless.

And so was I.

It was over. I’d end up spending minutes to hours at night in bed thinking about him in more ways than one. I knew why I said what I did. I don’t want him getting attached to something that’s easily breakable. That would leave with a simple, cold-hearted noted. I don't want to do that to him. I can’t.

Trying to pull my thoughts away from Potter seems damn near impossible but I make it happen.

Only barely.

I try thinking about Quidditch and all I see is Potter in his stupid Gryffindor quidditch uniform and how it works for him - really works for him, how the red canvas and gold linings accentuate his skin tone and how he’s so competitive in it that he ends up practically laying down on his broom to race the other seeker to the snitch so fast that no one can barely see him at all. He flies like a blur; too fast, quick, agile. Swimming through other players seamlessly to prevent the opponents seeker to get ahead of him. I think about something else.

Only barely.

I think about why trees are green - did someone stain all the leaves on all the trees in the world for them to look like that? Or are they naturally like that? - and all I can see is Harry fucking Potter’s green eyes being less than a handful of inches away from me as we’re bickering in the courtyard of the castle, stabbing each other with empty threats and hurtful, teasing names. I hate him so much (that’s a complete lie). I try thinking about something else.

Only barely.

I let my mind wander freely this time instead of trying to force myself to think about something other than Potter. It isn't working. And it never will unless I do something about this, him, me, my feelings. I told myself I wouldn’t.

I groaned, laying back on my bed and rolling over.


	2. Harry

_**Harry** _

“You have to promise me.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won't fall in love with me.”

The door closes on my face. Not in a rude and anger-inducing manner. In a more… difficult way that’s hard to place an exact feeling to. I think the words over a bit while walking back to my apartment. _That you won’t fall in love with me, that you won’t fall in love with me, thatyou won’t fall inlovewi thme, thatyouwon’tfall inlovewithme, t hat youwon’t fallin lovewit hme, thatyouwon’tfallinlovewithme._

He didn’t wait for my answer, nor did he really want to hear one. Why? I didn’t have one, but I bet that if I did, it’d be a damn good question as to why the hell not? Who was he protecting? Himself or me? Under what circumstances would I end up possibly falling for a prat like Draco fucking Malfoy?

What would even be there to fall in love _with_? He was shallow and vain, cruel, sarcastic. He had neatly cut and styled hair and his clothes were always perfectly pressed, or so it seemed. He was poised at (nearly) all times and he held his head high in a way that seemed to jut out his jawline and make it much more profound as one of the first features you see.

And his features, _God_ , they make me want to shake him senseless. A long nose, curved and straight and annoyingly pointy. His lips were no help, the palest pink I’ve ever seen, they looked soft, but I don’t know if they were truly soft. I bet they were.

_That you won’t fall in love with me, that youw on’t fall in lovewith me, thatyou won’tfall inlove withme, th at youwon’t fall inlo_

No. No. No way. There is no way in heaven or hell that I’m falling in love with Draco Malfoy.

No. No, no, no, no. No no no no. No no no no no.

I huffed, pushing my glasses up haphazardly and pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes and moved them up and through my hair. I did this several times until my thoughts stopped completely racing. Seeing stars behind my eyelids, I tried to get the image of Malfoy out of my head. “Get out, get out, get out.” I pulled my hands back, panting from holding my breath unwittingly. I sighed, letting my arms fall dumbly before raising them again to push them through my hair.

I can’t fucking believe this.

I can’t fucking believe that I am falling for Draco Malfoy.


	3. Draco

**_Draco_ **

 

Pansy says I’m being dramatic by lying on the couch and resting the back of my hand over my forehead and sighing in defeat like I’m “some kind of damsel in distress.”   
  


“Well, are you, Draco? You seem to fit all the requirements of one,” Blaise joked, snickering and hiding his mouth with his mug of tea.  
  


“Buzz off, Blaise, I’m just trying to think.” And as an afterthought, “What even are the requirements for being a princess, anyhow?"   
  


Pansy started giggling. “Damsel in distress, but sure I’ll list them for you, D. They are, as follows, a beautiful young lady who is placed in a predicament by the villain and who also needs her hero or prince to come save her.”   
  


I scoffed, laughing and served him and Pansy vicious looks. “I am not a helpless little wench who can’t fend for her own life!” I got up in a rush, barely stopping to balance myself and the dizziness from moving to fast, and took long strides into the kitchen. Grumbling to myself about how I’m not just a helpless little girl, I opened up my cabinets and looked for a mug.    
  


I really should organize these things at some point.   
  


In a flurry of anger, I made myself my third cup of tea (for the extra bite and wake up call that I needed, I poured a shot of vodka into the mug).    
  


“Haste makes waste, you know.”   
  


“Screw your proverbs, Pans.”   
  


“Ooh, Dragon Boy has a bite to his words.”    
  


“Fuck off.” They cheered together in mock joy.   
  


“Say, does Mr. Malfoy have Mr. Potter’s number in his phone?” Blaise picked up my phone with a devious glint in his eyes - with all the gall to stare  _ right at me _ ! - and unlocked my phone ot scroll through my contacts.    
  


“Don’t you fucking dare.”   
  


“Oh, I’m gonna fucking dare.”    
  


My brows furrowed even more together than they possible could ever be before I lifted my drink to my lips and down at least half of the bittersweet mixture. My face scrunched up because of the bitter side of the drink.    
  


“What’s in that?”   
  


“Vodka. Straight.”   
  


“Draco!”   
  


“Only joking, there’s tea in there with it.”   
  


“Two parts vodka, one part tea?” Blaise rattled off, flicking out his fingers to count off the parts.   
  


“Ha ha, very funny. I poured a shot in.”   
  


“He lets us in on his precious and heavily guarded secrets!”   
  


“Thank the heavens!”   
  


Blaise and Pansy put their hands together in mock prayer and exclaimed stupid phrases. I rolled my eyes and snatched my phone back from Blaise’s lap. “I hate you two.”   
  


“We know. That’s why we’re here.”   
  


“To make fun of you about a crush you have on  _ The Boy Who Lived,  _ Draco. Honestly, though? Really? The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, The Chosen One. The Golden Boy. Are you absolutely positively sure he’s the one you want to put all your love into and share the same bed space with?” Pansy’s expression changed from playful to confused. “Not to mention, he’s as thick as a brick wall. He wouldn’t even be able to catch the hint that you like him at all.”   
  


“Gee, Pans, thanks for the pick-me-up.”   
  


“You wouldn’t even share your bed space with me, of all people, but Potter? Honestly? Truly?”   
  


I sighed, I didn’t know how else to make it any more clearer to these two. “Yes. Harry fucking Potter. Yes, that one! The one who kissed Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley! The one who was Gryffindor Quidditch Captain in his sixth year! The one who started Dumbledore’s Army! The one who stopped Voldemort  _ both times _ ! Yes, for crying out loud, Harry fucking Potter!” I didn’t see Blaise reach over and grab my phone back, but he did and he had dialed Harry and made the volume lower but on Harry’s end, he heard everything I said, “Why must you two make something so simple into something so big until I finally burst and tell you two prats that I’m in love with Harry!?”   
  


“Oh, so it’s ‘Harry’ now and not ‘Potter?’”    
  


I groaned and downed the rest of my drink. “I need more than one shot of vodka next time. Maybe something stronger.”   
  


“Mate, what else is stronger than vodka?”   
  


“Anything that’ll make me hungover enough to convince myself that I didn’t just say what I just said.”   
  


Blaise’s finger was pushed down on the volume up button, “Malfoy?!” 


End file.
